Polyjuice Potion and the Heir (II)

"Three minutes?" Ron's voice rose again. "Do you know how long three minutes is in Potions? That old bat Snape doesn't spend three minutes watching us in total—he only needs thirty seconds to sweep his eyes over each table!"

"That's why I need you to cause a big enough disturbance," Hermione said. "Big enough to keep his attention on your side for more than three minutes."

Ron's face turned green again.

He looked at Harry, hoping Harry would say something to make the task seem less difficult.

But Harry wasn't looking at him.

Harry's gaze had fallen on the recovered Outline of History of Magic. Justin Finch-Fletchley's name was printed on the cover in neat, standard lettering in the lower right corner.

He remembered Justin's face.

The instant Justin recognized him, that face had changed from a mild smile into utter terror.

That fear hadn't been an act.

It had been real.

So real that Harry felt cold from head to toe, then from toe to head, as though he had been soaked in icy water, every pore of his body exuding a chill.

"Will what happened with Justin," Harry suddenly said softly, "affect our plan?"

Hermione and Ron both looked at him.

"I mean," Harry continued, shifting his gaze from the book to the flames in the fireplace, "he's so scared of me now that he'll definitely tell people he knows. And those people will tell others. Soon, the whole school will know. Harry Potter scared Justin Finch-Fletchley away. And then?"

He paused.

"Then everyone will think I'm the heir. Or at least... that there's something wrong with me. Something not right about me. They won't say I'm the culprit, but they won't come near me either. They'll stand far away and watch me, whisper to each other, point